Free Gear, W Michael - Novel 05 by The Morning River (v2.1) Page B

logic and an appeal to human
rationality." Richard wiped his mouth and steepled his fingers. "That
was the challenge, wasn't it? My belief in my philosophy against your ruthless
and brutal 'real' world?"
                   Phillip wadded his napkin and threw it to one
side. "As you wish. You may leave the pistol behind—and I will discard any
notion of my thirty thousand dollars making it safely to Saint Louis ."
                   A long silence settled over the table, Richard
simply playing with his food. Phillip watched him with resignation.
                   Jeffry entered and announced, 'The carriage
has arrived and awaits your convenience, sir."
                   Richard pushed back from the table.
"Excellent breakfast. Jeffry, please give Sally my compliments." To
his father he added, "There's no point in my lingering. The sooner this is
over, the better."
                   Tight-jawed, Phillip jerked a short nod and
got to his feet. "Jeffry, if you would be so good as to bring the grip
from my office."
                   Jeffry nodded and left.
                   Richard paced to the hallway where his things
waited: a satchel of books, and a trunk. When Jeffry handed him the grip
containing the banknotes, Richard quickly opened it and extracted the heavy
pistol. He hated to touch it, as if his flesh might be corrupted by the
inherent violence contained in that polished wood and cold iron. Like a snake's
flesh, it felt cool and slick. Holding it between thumb and forefinger, he laid
it carefully on the hall chair. With a calculated swirl, he wrapped his coat
about his shoulders, pulled on his hat and gloves, and opened the large front
door.
                   Misty orange light slanted across the city,
shooting through the smoke pall over the snow-crusted rooftops. The biting winter
chill brought a rush to his blood as his frosty breath rose on the still air. A
bundled carriage driver waited by the step, slapping his arms and rocking from
foot to foot. He reached up, touched his hat, and muttered, "G'day,
suh."
                   Phillip limped through the doorway and made
his halting way down the stairs. Grim-faced, he handed Richard the grip. Jeffry
followed, delivering the satchel and trunk to the coachman, who placed them in
the boot.
                   At the door of the coach, Phillip cocked his
head. "Richard, you ... I mean
                   "Offering advice, Father?"
                   The gray gaze hardened as Phillip stiffened.
"I wouldn't presume. You seem to have all the answers already." He
half turned, then stopped, looking back sadly. "I just wonder is all. I
wonder how you and I could have grown so far apart."
                   "Keep wondering, Father. A Greek
philosopher once stated that the unexamined life is not worth living."
                   As anger reddened his father's face, Richard
placed his foot on the step and climbed in to seat himself on the cold leather.
He leaned out the far window to stare at the familiar Commons, the snow now
crisscrossed with tracks. The carriage rocked as the driver climbed up.
                   The leather crackled as Richard settled in and
the rig jolted forward. He didn't look back, preferring to watch the Commons as
it slid past and dream of the look in Laura's eyes as she listened to his every
word.
                   God, how I'll miss this.
     
                   January 24, 1825
                   On the Ohio River , four days from Pittsburgh
                   Dear Laura:
                   I hope you received the letters I posted from Pittsburgh . What a horrid little town! It has few
amenities for either the civilized man or woman, though the poor residents do
make a show of gentlemanliness and aristocratic pretension. I doubt, however,
that the place will ever amount to